Dusksinger
by Rhi
Summary: Elrond POV. The Elf-Lord witnesses the reunion of Arwen and Aragorn at Rivendell, and broods on mortality, love and losing his daughter.


**Dusksinger**

As I sit upon my balcony and steeple my fingers together, gazing out over the haven that is my home and the home of many others; Imladris, I find my eyes focusing on a lone figure that stands in the courtyard, watching the gates with a fierce intensity.

It is Arwen. Her long dark hair, akin to mine, waves in the breeze. She is unmoving, as if made of stone, her hands clasped in front of her.

Glorfindel rode hither with the halfling Frodo some time ago. My daughter had been standing by the gates then, too; and I watched her speak to Glorfindel in urgent, hushed tones. He spoke to her in brief and then bore the Halfling to my house; but I dared not ask what Arwen had inquired to. I had no time to do so, for I had to tend to the injured halfling. But, as for Arwen… deep inside me, I did not need to ask, for I already knew.

Estel.

Her love for him runs deep, too deep now for me to curb. He is a mortal man, and love between a mortal man and an immortal woman often ends in pain and heartbreak. I wanted to spare Arwen of this; but now I fear it is too late.

I know it is wrong of me to dwell on things of such little importance compared to the impending darkness, but I cannot help myself. I love Arwen, and I wish nothing more than for her to be happy. Those many years ago, when Estel first confessed of his love for her, I was full of animosity, though I loved the young man as a son. He – a mortal! – dared to lay a claim to my daughter, the fairest lady in Rivendell since her mother? I was full of suspicion and doubt, thinking he wanted little more than to break my daughter's heart. But I knew these feelings were petty and loathsome, and I sensed that Estel did love her, and Arwen him, so I gave my consent to the union but on one condition – only when Estel lived up to his potential and gave up the drifting life of a Ranger, and only then, would I allow them to marry.

I thought they would balk at such unfair terms, for Estel's road to deliverance would be long and hard; and young people were, in my experience, impatient when it came to the matters of the heart. But they agreed, much to my surprise.

And then I knew: their love was true. 

Their love was the pure love that would not perish; not over war, not over separation, not over years, and not over a foolish, overprotective old Elf Lord who was more afraid of losing his daughter than the end of days!

It is times like these that I wish for the counsel of my wife, Celebrian. Her infinite wisdom and kind, laughing face would soothe the turmoil in my heart. 

I have lost my wife, and now I must loose a daughter.

One day, after the War is finally over, I shall depart over the sea. I had always planned for Arwen to go with me. She has chosen to remain behind, and live a mortal life. I wish it was not so. I do not want it to be so.

But for all my efforts, I could not, and cannot, do anything to prevent their union. Deep in my bones I know that Estel will not fail nor fall, and that Arwen will give up everything she is – was – to be with him. I cannot prevent the future, nor waylay the change. Their love and union is destined.

As I emerge from my thoughts, I see him – he is followed by several of the halflings, and one is leading a pony laden with baggage. I can sense Arwen's joy from here, high above them. She glides forward as one in a dream, and Estel – Aragorn – moves forward and embraces her. Arwen does not care about the dirt and grime that smears his face, or the damp clothing he wears. He is her _melethoifaer_, and she his.

I cannot suppress a smile at their joyous reunion. I know in my heart that Estel must succeed in his quest, or Arwen is doomed to an eternity of sorrow and grief. 

But if she gives up her immortality to be with him…

I think I am finally beginning to understand.

They have no choice but to obey their hearts.

I rise slowly from my chair, my robes swishing around my feet as I turn away from the joyous reunion below, and retreat back into my halls.

_Melethoifaer _– Sindarin, 'soulmate'. Lit. 'love of the spirit'.


End file.
